I recall a conversation with our Personnel Officer who had just returned from Second Air Force Headquarters. He said, “You know what is going to happen to you, don't you?” I replied that I was to be Director of Safety for the SEG when they arrived from MacDill. The Personnel Officer told me he had seen my name on a message from General Russell at Laughlin saying he wanted me as his Director of Safety in the 4080th. I knew what General Russell expected of me; he expected regular visits, even if it were only to have a cup of coffee.
I was assigned to Laughlin AFB from Barksdale AFB in January 1958. My B-47 experience enabled me to be checked out in the B-57C.
A ground incident occurred in the 4028th SRS Physiological Support area. Due to the extreme altitudes involved with these flights, high-pressure oxygen bottles were included in the pilot's equipment. While handling one of those bottles, one of the technicians inadvertently dropped it. When the bottle hit the cement floor, the valve was knocked off and the bottle became a flying missile, passing through a solid wood door two inches thick. Fortunately, no one was injured, but the incident sure got everybody's attention.
A ground accident occurred during the servicing of the forward wheel on a U-2. Due to the high altitudes the U-2 flew, the wheels had to be serviced with high pressure gas rather than air. The gas was in a two-bottle wheeled cart. The valve system required the sequential adjustment of two valves to put gas in the tire without allowing too much pressure to build up. Sadly, the valves had not been adjusted properly and the unlimited buildup of pressure disintegrated the tire and severely injured the young Crew Chief working on it.
On August 3, one of the Republic of China pilots encountered an engine flameout at 70,000 feet. Rather than bail out, he began descending above an undercast layer of clouds. From 35,000 feet to 17,000 he made four unsuccessful attempts to get the engine restarted. As he approached the top of the clouds at 14,000 feet, he saw an opening and spiraled down through the overcast. As he broke out, he noted the lights of Cortez, Colorado in the distance and the flashing/rotating beacon of the Montezuma County Airport. He retracted the landing gear and the speed brakes to help lengthen his glide distance. He was successful in getting to the vicinity of the airport trying to land on the runway in a southerly direction. He was not quite aligned with the runway so he touched down and skipped a short distance, turning about 135 degrees and slid backwards off the runway where he came to a stop.
Major Mike Hua got himself disconnected and out of the cockpit, retrieved his identification papers, removed his helmet and walked over to the terminal where he found an agent on duty. Major Hua said, “I yust crash land an aircraft on your airport.” He then presented his identification papers to the agent who called Kirtland AFB, Albuquerque, New Mexico. The agent told Kirtland a foreign pilot had crashed an aircraft on his airport and presented a packet of papers. The agent asked, “What should I do?” The person at Kirtland replied, “Do what the papers tell you to do” and he hung up.
As soon as the 4080th received notification, plans were made for the accident team to depart the next morning to pick up Major Hua and the U-2 engine. I was onboard the aircraft that day and recalled it was my fifteenth anniversary as a rated pilot. When we arrived at Montezuma County Airport, we met Major Hua and he said repeatedly, “I sure lucky, I sure lucky.”
That was the last accident investigation team I participated in with the 4080th SRW. I have many fond memories of my service with that organization and the many life-long friends I made.
An RB-57D accident in the 4025th SRS occurred when one of the most professional pilots I knew was at the helm. With many years between then and now, unfortunately I can't recall the pilot's name, but I think it was Bob Schuler. However, he could always be counted on to touch down in almost the same spot on each of his landings, which resulted in him being awarded a Spot Promotion to Major. On this particular flight, the pilot took off but the nose gear failed to retract. After consulting with the Command Post, he was directed to land. He flew his usual landing pattern and touched down in the same spot. As the weight settled on to the gear, he continued his roll, but the left wing failed at the outboard side of the left engine.
General Russell was on the scene immediately and I was summoned from my U-2 Field Training class. Upon investigation, I saw indications the wing spar had cracked. I told General Russell of my theory of the wing spar crack and recommended that we recall any other RB-57s in flight to check for the crack. My counterparts at Second Air Force Safety told me I was nuts because the wing spar could not have been cracked. When the results came back from Wright Patterson AFB Testing Lab, they proved that the wing spar was indeed cracked.
General Russell left Laughlin in early 1959 and was replaced by Colonel A. J. Bratton. I then tried to get reassigned to a KC-135, hoping it would help me obtain employment at Boeing in Seattle after retirement. I had already purchased property on Vashon Island in order to be near my wife's parents. I had a friend in SAC Headquarters who was trying to guide my application through the Personnel channels. We thought we had it made but one day while my friend was out of the office, a “Hawkeye Sergeant” looked at the application and put the skids on it. He said, “This guy has B-29, B-50, and B-47 bomber experience. He can't go to KC-135s; he has to go to B-52s. It was already in concrete before my friend was able to do anything about it. I was due to leave for transition at Castle AFB, Sacramento, California in early September 1959. I was assigned to a B-52 wing at Sheppard AFB, Wichita Falls, Texas from 1960 to 1965 at which time I was transferred to Yokota AB, Japan as Director of Safety. I checked out in the North American Sabreliner T-39. Part of my job was to fly the Air Division Commander to visit tactical squadrons stationed in South Vietnam and Thailand as well as Japan, Korea, Okinawa and Philippines. I had two TDYs to Vietnam flying the Scatback Sabreliner operations that transported personnel and classified materials.
At Fuchu Air Station, Japan I served as Director of Safety for Fifth Air Force. During my briefing for Lieutenant General Seth McKee, a messenger summoned the General to the Command Post for an emergency. The USS Pueblo had just been seized by North Korea. I was directed to report to Osan AB, Korea as Director of Safety until the Pueblo situation was settled to the satisfaction of those in command in Washington, DC.
After my tour in Japan, I was reassigned as Assistant Deputy Commander for Materiel at Udorn, Royal Thailand Air Force Base for my last year of active duty. The Wing there consisted of two F-4 fighter squadrons, two RF-4 squadrons and an intelligence C-130 in addition to the base flight group. Our R-F4 squadrons were the first to receive the new laser cameras.
Following my reassignment stateside, I retired from the Air Force on September 1, 1969.
Buddy L. Brown
Knoxville, Tennessee
Wife: Nancy
My Greatest Ass Chewing
This is a short story about a long ass chewing, which I rightly deserved, by my Detachment Commander, Colonel Forrest W. “Whip” Wilson. I would like to state that the nickname “Whip” was really a term of endearment. He was by all accounts a great leader, an outstanding pilot and most importantly, an officer and a gentleman.
Whip Wilson was one of those dedicated pilot/commanders who, if he had his way, would extend the day from 24 to something over 26 hours. He was our Maintenance Officer at Laughlin AFB, and a Detachment Commander when we were deployed.
The story starts at Barksdale AFB, Louisiana. The Cuban recon program had been moved from McCoy AFB, Florida to Barksdale to operate the U-2 out of a SAC base and to provide better support. The Detachment Commander, Whip Wilson, was assigned four pilots, including Yours Truly. We were flying Agency (Central Intelligence Agency) “C” Model U-2s for several reasons; we could get to higher altitudes and could have an updated defensive system.
It was the middle of August and Louisiana was hot, muggy hot, sticky and nasty and humid. On that particular day I was primary mission pilot. I completed the normal mission planning and briefing in our Operations h
angar monitored by Colonel Wilson. I left the Operations building early to start my crew rest for a 3:00 AM scheduled takeoff. This was normal takeoff time for the Cuban mission out of Barksdale in order to arrive at the target area with the right sun angle (approximately 30 degrees) and before the thunderstorms built up over the island. My wakeup call, pre-mission and maintenance briefings all went according to schedule. Colonel Wilson was in attendance during the briefings. I was dressed by the PSD (Physiological Support Division) folks and transported out to my aircraft.
Before I climbed up the ladder to get into the cockpit, a couple of the maintenance guys came up to me and asked if I would do them a favor. Without hesitation I said, “You bet.” The maintenance guys said they would all have their cameras out on my return from the mission and would like for me to make a pull-up for them. I thought about this request for a couple of seconds and said, “Okay, have your cameras ready.” I would be making my first approach at about 10:30 a.m. I had said “Okay” because I knew that Colonel Wilson was never out on the ramp or runway during a recovery, so I felt confident I could pull this off.
Buddy Brown
I was strapped into my bird, went through the challenge and response checklist, taxied out to the runway and was cleared for takeoff. My takeoff was on schedule and I headed across the Gulf of Mexico for Cuba. For about three hours I photographed targets and flew my return flight back over the Gulf arriving at Barksdale right on time for my 10:30 recovery.
I called Barksdale Tower and requested a low approach prior to landing to verify my gear was down. The Tower approved. I also requested a pull-up over the base to approximately 10,000 feet and again the Tower approved. I started my approach, gear down, flying down the active runway at about five to ten feet altitude. I approached the midpoint of the runway. All the troops were in several of our maintenance vehicles, cameras ready. When I was just opposite of where they were standing, I called the Tower and stated that I was going to make a pull-up over the field to 10,000 feet. I requested re-entry to traffic for a full stop landing. Again the Tower approved.
I flew opposite the maintenance folks, pushed the power to full throttle and pulled the aircraft to a vertical attitude. With only 200-300 gallons of fuel remaining, the thrust of the J-75 was more than the weight of the aircraft. At 10,000 feet I recovered to level flight attitude and requested a pattern entry for a full stop landing. Again the Tower approved.
I flew my approach, was chased by Mobile Control and stopped on the runway. The maintenance guys ran to install the pogos, the manually installed gear that held the wings level on the ground. The Mobile Control Officer stated that Colonel Wilson had watched my pull-up. That was my clue that I was in hot water. After the pogos were on, I taxied back to the hangar. As I stopped the aircraft and was unhooking my equipment, I saw a steaming Colonel Wilson standing at the base of my ladder. I could tell by his expression he was almost over the top angry. I thought, “Colonel Wilson never came out for a recovery, but this time he did. Just my luck.” I knew I was in for a big time chewing.
I climbed down the ladder and Colonel Wilson ordered me into a “brace” at full attention, eyes forward, no speaking. Remember, it was August in Louisiana and I still had my pressure suit on and it was hot, hot, hot. Colonel Wilson began to chew. The maintenance folks knew what was going on; they looked a little startled when I glanced their way. The chewing continued for what seemed like hours; actually it was probably only about 10 to 15 minutes. Sweat was running down my face and inside my suit. Colonel Wilson was also sweating from the hot sun and from the fierce tirade he was delivering.
There was no regulation against a fly-by pull-up for a gear check, but clearly this was not the reason. Colonel Wilson pointed out during his lecture that grandstanding like I did out there would not be tolerated. His primary concern was that I was returning from an operational mission over Cuba. I had a load of exposed film to be removed and processed immediately. I believe his exact words were something like, “When you return from an operational mission, you land the aircraft and download the film. You do not show your ass flying around the flagpole.” He was absolutely right on every count. It was really a dumb mistake on my part to make a pull-up like that.
Whip finally finished chewing me out and said, “What do you have to say for yourself?” I was still in a brace. I said, “Colonel Wilson, you are absolutely right. I really enjoyed it, but I would never do it again.” And I didn't.
When he cooled off, Colonel Wilson told me later that he just about had a heart attack because the J-75 engine makes a lot of noise. He didn't realize when I started my level-off at 10,000 feet I had pulled the throttle back to “idle.” The level-off went from a tremendous volume to absolute silence. He said he thought I had flamed out. I think that ticked him off a bit more.
For a couple of days, I received some hard looks from Colonel Wilson, but after a couple more days, our dialog was back to normal. Colonel Wilson was later awarded the Koligan Trophy for his outstanding airmanship in a critical emergency during an operational mission out of Eielson AFB, Alaska. By the way, I repeat, that chewing I received from Colonel Wilson was well deserved.
Comments by Anthony Martinez
I liked this memory of Buddy Brown's “debriefing” by Whip Wilson. I was especially fond of Whip. He was my backyard neighbor in base housing at Laughlin. Whip had the most spacious lawn of anyone on base and he manicured it weekly. As testimony to his fastidious nature, his hangar at the Operational Maintenance Squadron was a showplace at any hour of the day or night. He had set the standard and one by one the other buildings started to look better.
I had the opportunity to spend a week with Whip in 1963. Colonel DesPortes, 4080th Wing Commander, appointed us to survey several SAC bases for the purpose of relocating the McCoy AFB, Florida Cuban Surveillance Operation. We set out in a Lockheed T-33 (T-Bird) with about a week's worth of skivvies. At Barksdale AFB we received the royal treatment from the 2nd Bomb Wing Commanding Officer. The Base Commander there gave us the run of the base and agreed to give us two huge enclosed nose docks for our Physiological Support Division, pre-takeoff kitchen, pilots’ briefing room and administration and operations offices. Whip got us all the necessary Aerospace Ground Equipment and vehicles; we were in business in short order. Last time I saw Whip was in Laughlin for the 4080th SRW reunion about ten or more years ago.
Richard (Dick) Callahan
San Antonio, Texas
Wife: Sharon
It was an uneventful takeoff and initial cruise on my fifth or sixth training flight in the U-2. There had been an unusual amount of emphasis on the possibility of a flameout, the U-2 being a single engine aircraft. At an altitude of 70,000 feet the U-2 can glide approximately 250 miles with a dead engine. That being the case, finding and getting to an airfield is really no problem. We were constantly reminded to be aware of where we were in relation to a suitable landing strip.
I had not yet had my final training flight and Stand Board (Standardization Board) check flight so I was ensuring that I did everything by the book. Every procedure was new, to say nothing for the perspective of viewing the earth and navigating from an altitude of 70,000 feet.
The usual western training route was over El Paso, Texas to Phoenix, Arizona and then north. But on this particular flight that route was not open for NEPHO (photographic) training. Everyone always flew north to Salt Flat then west. Not this time, thanks to Jack Moon, Harding Smith and Ray Pierson who managed to stretch the string and find some NEPHO targets for my training flight. They also planned my day celestial training leg coming back west so that when I finished, I would be close to my letdown and landing at Laughlin AFB, Texas.
Everything was going great. I was experiencing some new and different NEPHO runs other than the usual El Paso, Lordsburg, Tucson, etc. I had finished my NEPHO run over Hot Springs, Arkansas. I turned south for my last run heading towards Shreveport, Louisiana where I would start my celestial navigation leg.
In 10 ye
ars flying Air Force single engine jet fighters, I had never experienced a flameout, but my luck had just run out. This was to be my first flameout. I know we had practiced this and had even shut the engine down on an earlier training flight. We talked about the U-2 being prone to flameout at high altitudes, but if you just keep your cool, the aircraft can be restarted.
To restart the engine, I knew I needed to keep the airspeed up, the engine windmilling at about 35 percent on the tachometer and electrical power to the battery. There is definitely no restarting without power. I notified FAA of my emergency, stopcocked the throttle, and set up my glide for Barksdale AFB, Louisiana. Air start altitude was 35,000 feet. I could see Barksdale in front of me so I knew I would arrive over the runway with plenty of altitude in case I wasn't able to restart the engine.
I attempted my first restart at 35,000 feet, with no indication of an air start when the engine tailpipe temperature (EGT) did not come off the stop. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I recalled how “everyone” had assured me that flameouts were common and after air start, “they said” you just climb back to altitude and continue the training flight. Again I reviewed the restart checklist precisely, carefully checking each and every point. After several attempts, it became apparent this bird was not going to restart.
Richard and Sharon Callahan.
I was approaching Barksdale and requested FAA permission to go to the Barksdale Tower radio frequency. I informed the Tower that my U-2 had flamed out and I had not been able to restart the engine. I requested permission to make a dead engine landing on their runway and asked them to notify the 2nd Air Force Command Post of my situation. Barksdale Tower gave me clearance for a flameout landing on Runway 12 and advised me their winds were light and variable. Passing through 20,000 feet, I informed Barksdale that I was continuing to attempt air start as I descended over the runway. The Tower had me in sight and informed me that they observed something streaming from my aircraft, probably fuel. Needless to say, I ceased attempting air start.
Remembering the Dragon Lady: The U-2 Spy Plane: Memoirs of the Men Who Made the Legend Page 8
